Illusions
by Shyrstyne
Summary: Let's try this one more time. Tie-in to Paranoia. G1. Red Alert may have been saved, but he's still functioning on borrowed time.


Illusions

_**Illusions**_

So I didn't actually change much this time… mostly just fixed some spelling and grammatical errors, but I decided we would give this one more shot, and then forget it ever existed… Kind of. I (unfortunately) have at least a few more tie-ins planned. Sorry. ;

Not my greatest literary achievement (despite the fact that I've rewritten it more times then most of the rest of my stories combined), but it'll do. Here's that idea I had floating around for that sequel to 'Paranoia', which is in all technicality a prequel.

By the by, if you haven't read Paranoia, you might want to try that first. I'm not really sure how much sense this would make (I'm sure it would make a small amount of sense, but for a completely different reason and in a different way). Trust me, yes?

_**Illusions**_

--

_It was supposed to have been a skirmish._

--

Turns out Red Alert was right. Again. It had been a trap, and Inferno couldn't figure out why Red hadn't been promoted yet. Security or Tactics or something. Red was good at that kind of stuff. He just wasn't suited to being a foot soldier. Not like Inferno was. Inferno had been built to handle tough situations, usually so he could get other people out of them. Inferno wished for a moment that he could be back on that search and rescue team. Before the war. Before the fighting.

--

_It wasn't a skirmish anymore. It was a slaughter._

--

As far as battles went, this one was something of a disaster. The Decepticons had a new weapon, some sort of large-scale vaporizer if Inferno heard right. He hadn't seen the thing, but he could hear its effects. The order to retreat had nearly been missed in the confusion.

--

_The comm. lines were a mess. Undisciplined chaos ran rampant, and no one could reach anyone else. It was a wonder we survived at all._

--

Inferno had shut his comm. off long ago. It was too distracting, and there was nothing to be had from it anyways. They were on the run now. Him, Red Alert, and another mech he didn't know the name of. A pale grey rookie who had gotten his left leg more or less slagged.

They were headed for the fallback, a somewhat safe place that one could, as it's name implied, fall back to. Inferno had no idea what was going on out there, but he knew it wasn't good. They dodged behind pillars and crumbling walls, evading the small amount of fire they drew from the occasional 'con that had for some reason moved away from the main battle.

The rookie was limping, but keeping up. If Inferno had to guess, he'd say at least a secondary strut was broken, if not a main one. He couldn't really tell. He wasn't a medic and the kids' leg looked a mess.

--

_I never did turn my comm. off. Inferno used to joke about how I was so paranoid for being like that. He doesn't anymore. That time my paranoia didn't help us. I wish it could have._

--

_-We…. Gotta… thing…-_

_-… Kidding?!... We… back..-_

_-Evac… points 2,3…-_

_-..Help me….-_

_-Greenlight! What… doing?!-_

_-Where's Sca… need…-_

_-Greenlight! GREENLIGHT!-_

_-Anybody… -ac need…. Assis-_

_-I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL KILL YOU ALL-_

_-Redlight… you… stop!-_

_-Fall back… squads 6, 12… casualties…-_

_-REDLIGHT!-_

_-…need … some…-_

_-Alleyrunner… commander..-_

_--_

When they reached the Fallback, it was a shock to see how few had made it back. Only two warrior types (one who was missing as arm), a medic, and the rookie they had brought with them.

"Are these the only ones who have made their way here so far?" Red asked the nearest bot. The warrior built that was still whole nodded at him, orange helmet dull in the starlight.

"We're not even sure if there's going to _be_ any more," The warrior missing his arm snorted quietly. The sounds of gunfire still sounding off in the distance made Inferno restless. Why was he here? Why wasn't he out in that battle with the other Autobots? Why wasn't he helping?

The medic scowled and walked up to the injured warrior, carrying a replacement shoulder joint in hand.

"That's quite enough. The rest of us are still holding out hope for all this."

"Ha! The only thing keeping us alive is the fact that they'd chase their own tailfins if they were told it would get 'em something." Was the warriors' glib reply. "They outgun us, out maneuver us, out power us and every other 'out' you can possibly think of. They're just stupid." The medic scowled again, but said nothing as the job was quickly completed, and the arm reattached.

The medic made rounds to each of the Autobots, repairing the rookies' leg as best as could be expected, before reaching Inferno. Inferno was pacing the area, an obvious look of anxiousness on his face.

"Friends out there?" The medic asked by way of greeting. Inferno shook his head.

"'s not that. It's just… Jus' I should be out there helping them, y'know?" Inferno paced a little more. Red, who was standing a few dozen feet away, decided that if Inferno were left there for any length of time, he would probably wear Cybertron right through.

The medic nodded in understanding.

"I know what you mean. I myself should be helping fix those mechs, but I can't help them unless they are brought here."

"Why is that, anyways?" Inferno asked. He'd wondered from time to time, but never thought to ask why Medics were generally kept from the front lines.

"Most medics can't fight. I myself only know two or three that can." Then the medic smirked sourly, as if at some hidden joke. "Besides. 'Cons tend to think of Medics as target practice."

--

_It was never mentioned that being one of the top ten medics on Cybertron usually made one a target. It's not exactly information you want to throw around lightly._

--

**Corrupt Data. Error 65A.ii.NATO(6): Missing image/audio files. Incomplete. Playback?**

**Y/N**

**Y**

**Commencing Playback…**

--

"Then I shall make you as target practice!"

Gunfire..

…

Laughter, cruel, insatiable…

Reddish armor.. A smirking face.. A purple insignia.

…

An indigo mech, standing away from the battle. Who was he? He couldn't be an AUto--…

…

…

…

…

--

_It is ironic now that I think about it that this file is corrupt. It was here that several important things happened, though I only know this by Inferno's telling. The corruption must have occurred after the transfer, as it couldn't have happened before._

_--_--

"Decepticons, retreat!" This was normal.

_**BANG**_. The Flash Grenade was not.

This was all that Red Alert thought about all the way back to base. Decepticons usually didn't even _carry_ flash grenades, let alone _use_ them. They considered them useless, and depended instead on the fact that most Autobots don't usually shoot a retreating enemy.

Though there had been a few 'cons over the years that had been shot down on the retreat. Not all Autobots were the same after all, and there were those who believed that an enemy was an enemy, and took every chance to take them out.

Red shook his head. He was getting off track. There had to be some reason that a 'con as vicious and feral as that had been would use such a tactic.

There was something else not quite kosher with the entire scenario, but Red couldn't quite put his finger on it.

He vaguely recalled being told that a young mech named Commtech had stopped the 'cons new weapon, and that there was to be a party in the lounge later. This was all normal. Or at least the party was. He wasn't going of course. He had no love for the post-battle parties. Inferno did. He was probably already deep a drinking contest with Firestar and a couple of the other mech's on base.

Preoccupied by that nagging feeling that something was off, Red didn't return to his quarters. Instead he wandered the lower levels of the base, not really going anywhere, but not willing to stay in one spot either. The party he could hear, several levels away, was hitting full swing before he stumbled upon another presence.

"Thinking?" It was the medic from the fallback. Red nodded.

"Not going to the party?" He asked. The medic answered with the shake of the head.

"Is there a reason, or is just not your taste?"

".. Have you ever wondered why you hardly ever see medic's at party's, or socialize at all?" Answering a question with a question. Odd way to go about it, but he could do that. He shook his head.

"I hadn't actually." He answered.

"Hmm." Silence descended again.

"Why is that?" The medic had piqued his curiosity. He might as well ask. The medic smirked in a way that showed no humour.

"It's so we don't get attached." Was the answer. "So we don't go insane from the constant loss."

"Yet here you are." Despite the dark content of the conversation, they spoke as though they were talking about nothing more than the weather. Red wondered for a moment just how much the war had warped him already.

"Hmm." The medic said again. Red caught the hidden motive though. Being alone for too long could drive you just as mad as losing those you love.

"Have you heard about Commtech?"

"I heard he was the one who stopped the 'Con's new war machine." Red answered. The medic sighed.

"He lost his entire unit today."

"Hm." _Which meant he was alone. Alone in a war that killed those in solitude. Where there was safety only in numbers. Or the insanely powerful._

"We're trying to find somewhere for him, in another unit, but he doesn't want it." It wasn't uncommon, but it caused those trying to assist in transfer no end of cranial stress.

"It's his first loss, you know. Pit, by all accounts he's still a rookie. A youngling even. It makes me wonder why he's even out there." The medic snorted.

"War does many things, and they are hardly ever good." Red muttered quietly.

They walked down the quiet hallways in silence for many long minutes, making their way slowly downward, unknowingly towards the basement levels.

It got quieter and quieter the farther they went, the only sounds being their own joints and the muffled scrape of their feet on burnished metal flooring.

Suddenly, Red stopped. Putting up a hand to indicate silence he began to creep forward as quietly as he could. The gesture was unneeded however, as the medic had heard the same thing.

Voices.

Maintaining their silence, Red and the medic moved forward, listening intently as the voices became clearer, and they began to distinguish what was being said.

"Shut up, the both a you! We're gonna gets us caught!" Said a first harsh voice.

"As if. The Autobots don't come down this way, the idiots. Leaving an open access tunnel unguarded like that, they might as well have invited us in." Another voice, more cultured, but haughty voice snorted.

"Don't look a gift drone in the weapons array, Skyraider." Another cautioned. "We were lucky to get this far. It'll be my luck and in a few seconds a whole continent of Autobots are gonna come bursting out a side-tunnel and blast us all to scrap."

There was a pause.

"Why did we even bring you, Outcrop?"

"He's here as a lookout, like you're supposed to be doing, Skyraider. And if the three of you don't shut the pit up I'll 'forget' to set the timer to more then four seconds."

There was another, very long pause, and Red was unnerved by just how serious the mech sounded.

"Y'know… I've always wondered how a suicidal mech like Blowout manages to stay alive so long…" Apparently the mech name Outcrop had no idea ho to keep silent. Red Alert found this a little odd considering his place as a lookout on an infiltration mission.

There was a curse, and some angry muttering. The tech spoke again.

"This one's dry. We'll have to find another one." There was a stifled gasp from the medic, as though something long forgotten had just been realized.

-_The old energon generators are down here. Most of them are probably still half full or more_.- The medic comm'ed him. It was a risky move but preferable to speaking out loud and being heard for sure.

--

_Even a half full energon generator would have blown the entire base and most of the surrounding area to pieces. We knew what we were getting into. I am only thankful that this particular generator had been empty._

--

As it turned out they were discovered anyways. The hallways leading to the generators were old, long, and with very few side passages to hide in. They could not have hid in time to go unnoticed by the cons, though it was debatable whether they would have tried if there was somewhere to hide.

Regardless, it was four very surprised 'Cons who rounded the corner to face the two armed and ready Autobots.

The first thing that Red Alert noticed was that he recognized a good portion of them. These were the 'con's that had attacked them at the fallback. The tech stood near the back of the group, a detonator in one hand, and high-yield explosives in the other.

_--_

_As I recall, it was this mech who had been standing off to the side, away from the fighting, in the battle at the Fallback. I had thought it suspicious at the time, but I don't think anyone had remembered there even _was_ an old set of service tunnels leading to the outdated generators. It was a mistake that could have cost us dearly. We got off lucky that time, though Inferno would protest._

--

Inferno was having a grand old time. It was post-battle celebrations, and everyone was either having fun for the sake of having fun, or trying to forget how many friends they had lost by way of over energizing. Only the wounded that had been made to stay overnight in the medbay and the medic's themselves weren't present it seemed. It was a party. And Inferno loved a good party.

_-This is a priority 1 alert to all Autobots on base! Decepticons in the basement levels! I repeat, four Decepticons in Basement level B! They're trying to blow up the old generat…-_

Static, and the floor beneath Inferno quaked.

There was dead silence for a moment.

A moment later found every bot capable running towards the call, Inferno heading the pack.

--

_It is this point that I remember very little, for good reason really. Inferno graciously donated a few memories to me, but the whole event is really still quite vague._

--

When Inferno came upon the scene, he was honestly surprised that anyone had survived.

The hallway had been just that- a hallway- and as such contained the blast to within itself. The metal walls were bulged outward slightly, and everything for several hundred meters in both directions was blackened.

As were the remains of the mechs near the blast.

It took Inferno a moment to figure out why there were only three recognizable bodies, and a blackened husk that might have been a mech at some point.

Those three bodies, however, where surprisingly still functioning, though the seeker (who still had traces of green to be seen on him) was missing the lower half of his body. He would deactivate very soon, sooner if he continued to try to crawl to safety like he was. Not far from him was the medic from the fallback, crouching over a body that Inferno hardly recognized as Red Alert.

"Red!" He whispered to himself, making his way quickly over to them. The medic did not look up from the feverish pace that had been set, and Inferno got a good look at Red's injuries.

Two thirds of Red's face was missing entirely, along with most of his right arm and parts of his torso. The rest of him would need a complete overhaul if he survived. The medic worked furiously, reconnecting, rerouting, and fixing whatever could be fixed. Inferno had a vague thought in the back of his head that medics didn't usually have a direct download uplink to their patients CPU, but he was really more concerned for Red's immediate safety.

There was other Autobot's gathering around. Medic's who rushed in to help, warriors who had already started to clean up the mess (beginning with putting the green seeker out of his misery), and others who were making plans to get the wounded into the medbay. There were more supplies there, and Red would stand a better chance of survival.

It was a tribute to the medic's and their skill that Red Alert had survived that long, let alone walk away functioning.

Inferno spent his next three guard shifts worrying for his friend.

His trepidation only grew when a medic, this one unfamiliar to him, summoned his to the medbay.

There the medic from the fallback, who was still soot black from the explosion and had obviously not taken a break since, greeted him. There were tools scattered about, some he recognized, and some he did not. He focused on the medic, who looked anxious.

"I suppose you're wondering how your friend is doing." The medic started. The anxious look was not betrayed in voice, which was perfectly even. Inferno nodded.

" 'S why I'm here." He answered.

"He's… Stable." Inferno noted with some concern the pause between the two words. There was a catch here. A big one. The medic sighed.

"It was bad. Really, really bad. We weren't sure if he was going to survive at first. He is alive and functional, but…"

"But?" Inferno coaxed. The suspense was killing him. It really was. Why couldn't he just be told and get it over with?!

"Have you ever heard of Post Cranial Trauma Degradation Syndrome?"

--

_Inferno had not known. I might have. I don't remember. There were other, more specific complications though.._

--

Inferno wished he could lie down for a nice long recharge and absorb all this new information and its consequences. He also wished for free energon on a semi-regular basis. It just wasn't going to happen. The medic wasn't done yet however. He gave a quizzical look as he was handed a small, roundish device similar to a very, very large portable digital storage unit.

"It's not just his sanity I'm afraid. The blast managed to almost completely fry his long-term memory. I saved all that I could, and put it on there."

Inferno wasn't sure how to react to that. What did that mean? Would Red not remember him?

Would he even remember himself?

The medic seemed to sense his confusion and continued.

"His short term seems to be fine for the most part. I've done what I can to upgrade it to hold as much as is possible. He's just going to need that-" The medic pointed at the DSU "- to review every so often."

Inferno looked back down at the unit. Suddenly, in the space of seconds, it had become very important.

"He can read and write onto it as he pleases. I would tell him to do so often. Short term is finicky sometimes, and it would do no good for him to forget something before he thinks to update his files." There was a dark, sardonic humour to the medic's tone, but it was halfhearted at best. Inferno was feeling quite overwhelmed.

"It gets worse, I'm afraid." The medic went on. "You're going to want to keep this a secret. The public doesn't know it yet, but we've got a serious energon shortage looming just over the horizon. Your friend will be one of the first to be put under stasis lock to conserve energy."

"Why?" Inferno couldn't help but ask.

"Not only are head cases dangerous to themselves and others, they also take twice the amount of time and energy to fix. It's a conservation thing. My best advice is to make yourselves as indispensable as possible and find a medic. One who can keep secrets and that you can trust with anything. One you know well, preferably."

That was a problem, Inferno thought sardonically. The only medic he knew even vaguely was standing before him.

"Y'know…" Inferno said on impulse. "We never did get yer name."

The medic paused, and gave a wry chuckle.

"So you didn't. Alright then," She held out a small hand to Inferno in greeting "The name's Wireweaver." He returned the greeting.

"Inferno."

--

_I sometimes wonder if, before the war, Wireweaver had not been in a search and rescue team like Inferno, or perhaps a maintenance technician. She was of small build. Her size made sure she couldn't carry many tools on her, and her alt-mode wasn't nearly large enough to carry wounded mechs from the battlefield. However, it made her a good field medic, who could duck under the notice of enemy fire, and get into small spaces where larger mechs could not. It's a pity I never thought to ask what she did before the war._

--

**Memory/text file. I: Long range data tracks 116392…**

**Date/Time anomaly. Play now? Y/N**

**Y**

**Commencing Upload…**

--

Inferno

_-I won't be too much longer. Keep your heads down though. Those shortages are getting really bad now. Don't tell Red. He'll panic, and that's the last thing we need. I'll be back soon to fix him, but I've got to do a little more digging here first. There's some rumors floating around about an exploration mission for more energon._

_Stay safe,_

_Weaver-_

_-All right. Jus' make it quick. Red's goin' fast this time._

_Inferno-_

Red Alert

_-Stay calm, Red. I'm on my way back now. Just hold out 'till I get back, all right?_

_Weaver-_

_-You're plotting. I know you are. You're not going to come back at all and leave me here to suffer like this.. Or you're off plotting with Decepticons for some foul concoction to get rid of me forever when you come back to 'fix' me._

_I won't let you get me..-_

--

**Date/time anomaly. Time skip in long-range transmissions.**

**Play now? Y/N**

**Y**

**Commencing upload…**

--

-_We're in. Get to Iacon. The Ark leaves in__** (Date/time not translatable. Error-anomaly)**__. I'll meet you there._

_Weaver-_

_-Anything could happen yet, Wireweaver. Keep your guard up._

_Red-_

--

**End of transmissions.**

**Continue playback? Y/N**

**Y**

--

Inferno read through the notice again, and paced his quarters. He wasn't sure what to do next. He would need to tell Red. Eventually. There was no need to worry him… But Red deserved to know…

Inferno sighed. He looked down at the data pad the mech named Prowl had given him not even a cycle ago. Again, he wondered what he should do now.

_Automated shuttle 'Shifter' en route from Kaon to the Ark launch base was attacked above sector eight at __**(Date/time not translatable)**__. Autobots Gunpowder, Wireweaver, and Blacklight all deactivated or presumed deactivated…._

It went on for quite a ways after that, but little of it held any interest. The second in command had handed him the data pad after being asked about where Wireweaver was. Now Inferno had a dilemma. He was still in shock, his friend was deactivated, and Red could very well end up that way if he couldn't get another medic to help them..

He wasn't sure what to do.

'One thing at a time.' He assured himself. 'Start with Red.'

--

_It was a fairly hectic conversation, as I recall, which ended with me making Inferno promise not to tell _anyone._ I'm not sure just how far I had degraded at that point, but there had to have been at least some, because I'm sure I would not have asked that of him if I had been thinking rationally._

_I'm not sure if I think rationally at all anymore._

_It's a point I've talked about with Inferno more than once. Ever since that incident with the Negavator, I've needed to get my systems fixed almost monthly. My days of rational thought are becoming fewer- though even that could be an overreaction on my part. I'm just not sure any more. Wireweaver may have been able to elaborate, but she's no longer here… And I don't trust Ratchet enough yet to ask._

_Inferno's got a new idea it seems. He says the engineer Wheeljack, and the tech, Perceptor are more or less the best of their field. He thinks that, if we were to just approach them, they may be able to produce a new long-term memory core, or at least something that acts very similar to one. I am.. Doubtful, to say the least. I do not know these people- they could be anybody. Anything._

_It is here that I have a perplexing 'catch 22'. My psyche is degrading. I can tell, Inferno can tell, and I know the medic knows this very well. These two mechs could help me, but I don't want them to. My paranoia has suddenly gone from an asset to something less than savory, and it seems there is little that can be done about it, except to wait and hope that Inferno decides to do what is needed._

_Two weeks of rational thought every month. When I am not, I do not update my memory files, which finally ends in me forgetting vital information. It is not something people want in their security director._

_I do not want this to continue. If it does, I will become a danger to everyone on the Ark, becoming what I swore to fend off. I don't know what I should do. I hold no faith in Inferno's latest scheme. _

_Inferno is impulsive and illusioned. He tries to be helpful, but often tries to be so in a reckless and roundabout fashion. He does not think before he acts, and has so many odd quirks and rituals I cannot hope to keep track of them all. I'm sure I've realized this all many times in the past, but it appears only leaving a message for myself will make me remember._

_I wonder when even that will cease to work.._

_**Illusions**_

Argh. Painful to write, this was. Inferno doesn't talk in my head, so I decided it would be challenge to see if I could do it.

Failed. Failed miserably.

There's still a lot of Inferno, as you can see, but noticeably less from the first two or three drafts.

It is also very hard to write a character that doesn't have a gender until halfway through… Though much more fun to do, it was interesting, and not the frustrating that Inferno was.

All in all… The usual. I don't like it, but I've seen worse, and therefore I shall console myself with that. Besides, I wasn't going to put this much work into this and then not upload it. Ah well. Just don't kill me.


End file.
